#giuliodemedici

[nuncvive]

“Piero de’ Medici and Lucrezia Tornabuoni got married in Florence on June 3, 1444. She was seventeen, he was already twenty-eight. Who would have thought that two of their grandchildren would become popes and a great-granddaughter, Caterina de’ Medici, even Queen of France?”

— from “Lorenzo de’ Medici, una vita da Magnifico” by Giulio Busi

[guilbarcelos]

@antiquatus

Half an hour had gone by and still only the sound of the flickering flames filled the otherwise silent room. Guilherme found comfort in the unspoken contemplation of what seemed like life itself, and with his presence alone he thanked Father Giulio for the humble company unadorned by speech. 

At length, the words did bubble up to Guilherme’s mouth as he armed himself with a calm and deep breath. He stretched out all fingers of his right hand and pursed his lips before he finally said, “I find myself at the edge of a precipice from which I can neither retreat nor jump. I move, I breathe, I love - painful as it is proving to be - and yet I find myself questioning if I can fully live.”

As if in the middle of a conversation, he had spoken with ease seeking no pity, no sermon, no comfort. It was his own vulnerability he sought, for that itself was a difficult enough task whose necessity he even questioned in getting through the initial grief. 

[gdpiero]

Starter for: @antiquatus

If there was one lesson Stagio had learned immediately upon meeting Piero, it had been knowing when to be quiet. He carried out that lesson now, diligent in manner even as he leaned against the wall while unabashedly observing Piero. The Grand Duke had always had a threatening stillness to him, but more importantly, and the reason Stagio pledged his loyal services, the will and action that instilled it. Piero currently had other things in his mind and he was clearly, and understandably, not impressed by the updates Stagio had delivered. Then again, Piero was rarely impressed, and while their advances on establishing a network of information gathering were well underway, it was nothing compared to what they were accustomed to in Italy. 

A flick of the wrist told him everything he needed to know, and just as the knock echoed into the chamber Stagio stealthily abandoned the room through another means. The door opened to reveal the sight of Piero still seated upon his chair as if the world tired him. The exact view Stagio had been observing, though Giulio De Medici had no way of knowing this. 

“Sit,” came the cold tired voice of his brother, “I called you here brother, so that you may speak.” Piero gave no further explanation. He expected Giulio to understand. This was no trial, but Giulio was no fool.